Phantom of Noel
by ElphabaDaae
Summary: Two timeless tales combined. Erik is bitter and alone on Christmas 4 years after the opera. In the night he is visited by 3 ghosts. Will he see the error of his ways and even win back Christine? Musical, movie, and books together! COMPLETE FOR CHRISTMAS!
1. Humbug!

**A/N: Hi guys this is my very first phan phic that I'm actually putting out into the public so be very gentle. You may want to read my profile (when and if I get it posted on there) to get an idea of the characters since they tend to stray from themselves **

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Phantom of the Opera (cause if I did I would make Erik and Christine together and wouldn't be writing this) A Christmas Carol, or any amazing writing skills.**

Pure white snow made crunching noises of every note and tone as it gave way under Erik's rhythmic footsteps. _Music, it's everywhere. In the rain, speaking, even in snow. It used to be in me. _He walked in a trance like state through the freezing streets of Paris, letting his black cape trail gracefully behind him. The normally gray streets were animated with merry carolers, leaves of holly and mistletoe, happy families, children running amuck, and present shoppers; it was painful for Erik to look at.

You see, seeing all this happiness made Erik think of all the things that had happened to him in the most recent decade of his pitiful existence. It made him think of Christine Daae. _How long had it been? Three, maybe four years? Long enough to forget a least_

Alas, he could never forget. He could never forget _her._

Even the thought of Christine's name sent shivers through his tall body until he actually started to shake. _She's bound to be married and happy by now. _Erik's straight line of mouth seemed to become even straighter. _Isn't that what I wanted of her? For her to be happy? Happy with me…_

As the December sun sunk its flawless face down from the skyline of Paris, Erik let out a small sneer. _Light shows man what they want to see. I want man to see nothing!_ _Light also marks the dawn of a new day full of bitterness, miser…regret. Back into the darkness I go only to meet the unforgiving sun in the morning! Tomorrow's morning, will be not different for tomorrow is Christmas Day!_

Wallowing in his bitterness, he continued to think badly of Christmas, the time when the poorest man felt like a king. _Why don't hideous monsters feel beautiful or loved in this time of year? Because none loves a hideous monster! Christmas! Bah, humbug! _

A little boy with unusually colored red hair saw Erik walking by. "Bet'cha I could even get that ol' grouch to pay up a couple o' francs!" he bragged to his companions, sticking out his chest in pride. The crowd of boys was happy to see him try, kicked him off, and took a few steps back, just to be safe.

Erik saw the boy coming and let out a sigh of annoyance. _I could always say that Satan drags little boys to hell who beg for money…no, no that won't due, I've used that one before. Come now, Erik you can't be losing your touch. _

The boy held out a stick in the road, blocking the unresponsaive Erik. Immediately, the boy blue eyes gazed at the half mask that was places neatly on Erik's face.

"H-hi there, mister, fancy a Christmas carol? Only 2 francs." The boy wiped the fear from his eyes and put on a sly, gap-toothed grin.

Erik's eyes became stormy. Swiftly, he snatched away the stick that was blocking his path and snapped it in two with no difficulty. He held the boy by the collar of his shirt and waves the broken stick in front of his freckled face.

The former infamous Phantom of the Opera said dangerously, in just barely a whisper, "This will be your neck, boy, if you or any of your other little friends bother me again. Now, out of my way urchin!" He shoved past the boy leaving him utterly horrified.

Erik cruelly chuckled at the expression he had left the boy with. _Erik, you old dog, you've got it._

Finally upon arriving to his flat, Erik swiftly drew a brass key from his black cloak. His skeletal hand froze, and drew away from the lock on the entryway; he had an overpowering, sudden urge to touch his mask. Erik let his gloved hand trace the side of his face. Black leather met white porcelain as thousands of memories. Voice seemed to be ringing in his ears…

_Say you'll share with me one love_

_One lifetime_

_Say the word and I will follow you_

_Share each day with me_

_Each night each morning_

_Anywhere you go let me go too_

_That's all I ask of you_

Erik's yellow eyes burst open like he had been flung in the face by cold water. "Humbug," his beautiful voice growled in his throat. _You've been playing ghost for far too long, Erik. You're starting to scare yourself._ Shaking his head for such arrogance, he took his gaze of the snow and back to the door.

The brass door knocker hung there proudly, as it had been since Erik came to live at the miserable, poorly lit flat. It looked aged, worn, and was now completely covered with grime. For the sake of his perfectionism, he deftly took out his best lace handkerchief to give it a good shine.

As soon as it touched the icing metal, the door knocked seemed to be moving? No not moving, changing! Even being a master of illusion and tricking pathetic human minds, Erik held a gasp in his throat and backed away.

Slowly, it transformed itself into a circle. The circle grew eyes, jade green eyes that seemed to be staring him down. A nose appeared, and finally a mouth that opened and uttered only one word from its reedy voice. "Erik," it called.

Erik was rooted to the ground below him as every muscle in his body tensed. He knew that voice, the one which knew him as Erik, one of very few. "Nadir?" The face closed its haunting eyes and faded away.

For a second or two he started at the inanimate door knocker. After a while he let out a very rare chuckle. He tapped it twice as a mock to his second act of foolishness for the day and stepped inside his wintry, dark house. "Honestly, Erik, there are no such things as sprits who live in door knockers. You above all people should know that, oh great and powerful Opera Ghost! And besides, my unfortunate friend, Nadir Khan, has been dead for two years. His mind practically split in two from our last little emprise!"

A burst of cold wind blasted his thin body, blew out the candle he was preparing, and plunged him into complete blackness.

It would be a lie to say that he wasn't startled, but he had learned long ago that darkness was his friend and whenever it was brought to him, even when it wasn't wanted, he should embrace it.

So onward he went, trudging up the stairs in total blackness, to his bed chambers. The stairs groaned under his light weight. _Creak. Thunk. Creak. Thunk._

Upon reaching there, he performed his daily routine after returning from his annual walk. Placing his fedora and cloak gracefully on the rack perched on the wall, he stepped over towards Ayesha who had been warming her fur by the barely burning fire. Erik stroked her fine fur with the back of his skinny hand and gave a half smile. "You've always been there for me, haven't you my little lady?" The beautiful Siamese cat responded with a chorus purring.

Satisfied, Erik sat down at his all too familiar organ. He grazed his fingers over the white keys but did not play. _I haven't played since…well since she left me. _He resumed to stare at they untouched keys when there came a loud crash from down stares

Erik gave a mock smile. "I would appear that we have some callers, little lady." He laughed a little at his own inside joke "Don't you worry, precious, none is in our home. He moved to pick up Ayesha went another loud bang broke the monumental silence. Ayesha spit and hissed at the door as she dug her claws into Erik's pant leg. Erik's yellow eyes were glued to the door. There was someone in his house.

_Clank. Bang. Clank. Bang. _

"Erik!" moaned a voice "Erik!" The voice vibrated throughout the house.

"Leave me stranger! Or I'll send you to hell without a second thought!" Erik hated to hesitate, but for all he knew, the intruder could have a gun. Being with his trusty Punjab lasso, he was helpless.

"Erik," the voice croaked for the third time. The clanks and bangs ceased. The stranger was at the door.

**Yeah if you guys know the story of the Christmas Carol then you probably know what'll happen. Read and review and please no flames; I'm fragile**


	2. Ghost of Nadir Khan

**A/N: Thank you so much for the review so far! So I here by dedicate this chapter to my first two reviewers!**

**Nocturna Musique**

**angelofmusicx0**

**Hope you can stay awake ;)**

Erik's heart was pounding in his thin throat as the resonance ceased. _Possibly I've been taking too much morphine these days. _

"Erik," the voice rasped for what seemed like the millionth time that night.

The tall, skeleton man watched in utter horror as he saw the block locks on his door unhinge…by themselves. They made a rusty shriek as the unseen being forced them to unlatch.

The door creaked open to reveal none other than Nadir Khan, better known though at the l'Opera Garnier so many years ago as "The Persian."

He did not, in fact, look like Erik's deceased friend, Nadir, or his ghost rather, was completely drained of his color, no longer possessing a bronze completion that he received from the hot Persian sun, but was white as the snow slowly gathering on the window sill. His once piercing jade eyes had dulled and were unblinking as they studied the gaping Phantom before him. The most peculiar thing though, was the long, terrible chain that was fastened several times around his torso.

It made the most cringing clanking, most likely an asset in the racket on the stairs, when he moved passed Erik, suddenly unaware of his presence, walked to the organ, and placed a place hand on its wooden top. Ayesha leapt in a flurry to escape the apparition intruder.

"Who are you?" Erik asked with a growing rage. _Of course you know who it is, you fool! Snap out of it! No doubt it's my old friend the Dagora, come back to nag me further, even in the after life! No doubt in my mind…yet why do I not want to believe it?_

"Ask me who I _was_," Nadir retorted, now making clear eye contact with Erik.

Humoring him Erik spat back, "Then who _were _you? Are you or are you not the sprit of Nadir Khan?" He entwined his long fingers in the folds of his evening suit intelligently.

"Yes," Nadir breathed, "In life I was your friend, your Dagora, _the Persian!_" He took a few silent steps toward Erik, whose eyes could not leave the chain that was dragging behind his friend.

"I see this chain I wear puzzles you. You always hated not knowing things, so I'll spare you of your curiosity, friend. I carry it, this wrenched chain, not as a punishment for a horrible deed I committed. No, no it's actually a noble deed on my part. You see, Erik, you made this chain by every foul act _you_ committed. Link by link, yard by yard."

Erik couldn't even remember the last time he had been frightened, seeing this out of character Nadir, fear struck him like lightning. _I do not praise this emotion…fear. I would prefer to give it! _

Gathering his pride he said rather triumphantly, "If the chain is my doing, then why do you wear it, Dagora? Satan couldn't wait to see it on someone?" He laughed, such a cold and cruel laugh Erik had, until the ghost's face changed entirely.

"If _you_ were to wear this chain, _oh this chain_, then it would be far more…_lethal_ than this. I am merely holding part of it for it for you," he said gently, not looking up from the floor, "consider it an early Christmas present. I carry some to relieve you of your burden in the after life."

"I am hoping that you didn't travel all the way from hell to tell me that lovely little foretaste," Erik said slyly waving his hands to add dramatic effect.

Nadir withdrew his eyes from the ground and sent them into Erik's yellow ones. "You best be careful, I do not come from hell and I come here on my own accord…_to warn you!_ You're acts of cruelty will land you with an even more lethal chain, as I have mentioned, and a spot in hell, right next to the devil himself!"

"I have known such things since birth, Dagora. Heaven will never take me when I pass," Erik said abruptly, fingering his mask.

"That is why I am here!" Nadir roared as he slammed his fist into the mighty organ, "I can help you enter the golden gates of God if you will only _listen_!"

Erik mimicked the gesture that the ghost had displayed and crashed his fist into the organ as well. "Why should _I_ redeem myself when the human race has been the unjust one?!" His nostrils flared and coldly turned his back on Nadir.

"Erik," Nadir said with more content, "you've killed many men, nearly succeeded in killing another, and almost burned down the entire opera."

Lowering his eyes, Erik said in a low whisper, "All for _her_." _I shall not speak of her name in front of him. Not now, I can't handle so much badgering in one evening._

Hearing more clanking and footsteps behind him, he whirled around to face a smiling Persian.

"Ah, I'm so glad that you are still fond of Miss Daae, Erik."

"Oh course! I could never forget her! She is known of your concern or mine anymore, Dagora!" he shouted bitterly. _How dare he drag her into this! Why can't anyone just leave me in peace? _

"On the contrary, there would be a few more…benefits so to say with your redemption. It's said that if you succeed, old friend, it's possibly that you and your love may come together."

Erik's golden eyes widen. _Is it possible? Could she be mine after all this time? _Would_ she be mine?_ The curiosity and lust was unbearable. "What of the vicomete, I am thinking that he wouldn't be so willing to have a monster snatch away his love for the millionth time. Would she even take me back?" Erik hated asking questions; it made him feel ignorant, but the burning inside him was too great. He wanted Christine back...

"All in good time, friend. First you must do is see the error of your ways…don't scoff at me so, Erik! I realize you are as stubborn and mulish as you were four years ago but if you want to make things right, you must see the harm you have done. It may be painful at times, but it must me done! You shall be visited by three ghosts tonight!"

Groaning, Erik protested, "Can't I just see them all and be finished with it?"

"The first ghost will arrive at 1 o'clock…"

"Why must I see sprits?! I've had enough of ghosts for one lifetime! Let me see them all…_now_" He tired to grab hold of Nadir's sleeve, but only fazed through his transparent companion. _Damn, damn, damn! I hate ghosts! I HATE them! _

"The second at 2 o'clock…"

"Nadir, answer me! I couldn't get you to shut your mouth a moment ago! God damn it, Nadir!"

"And the third at 3 o'clock. Farewell now, old friend, I hope to see you on the other side one day. Take care of yourself and no more morphine. Yes I know of that as well."

He moved swiftly to the window with Erik's large eyes following him the whole way with no attempt to stop him, he knew better than anyone that you could not stop a ghost.

"Oh and Erik…Merry Christmas!"

With a snap of Nadir's ghostly fingers, Erik was plunged into a black abyss once more.

**Hope you liked! My goal is to try and post a chapter ever 2-3 days because I know how annoying it is to wait for a phic! **


	3. Ghost of Christmas Past

**A/N: Hello again! I hope that this story isn't boring quite yet ******** Thank you so much for the reviews; really it's just so flattering and makes me entire day!**

**Again thanks to:**

**Nocturna Musique **

**aneglofmusicx0**

**Hot4Gerry**

**Let's meet our second ghost shall we?**

Erik fumbled about for a few moments to locate a match among the useless pack rat garbage that had been piling up for some time now. _I must get that trait from my mother, one of very few. _He thought thinking to himself, or even speaking aloud would calm his nerves in light of what just occurred.

The room was illuminated once more with one quick strike of the match against his knee. Shadows cast along the wall creating snarling demons, teeth bared and ready to attack. He swallowed a gasp and in its place let out a deep sigh.

_It was a dream. The whole lot of it! Sprits on Christmas coming back to haunt me for my no good deeds! Humbug! That's the most cliché thing I've ever heard!_

Though Erik was thinking of what poppycock it was, he cautiously approached the window where his "specter" friend had vanished just moments ago.

Resting his hands on the glass, to keep his balance, Erik peered out the window as a cold draft nipped at the unmasked part of his face. Looking out, he could just barely see the vast outline of Paris in all of its snow covered glory. Why, he could even make out the Garnier Opera itself!

Squinting back from the cold that was rushing into his glazed eyes, he saw little beings a top the roof, most likely worker men reconstructing the palace, _his palace_, from the his very own last performance.

_Maybe she was there. Yes I can see it now. Her tiny frame rapped up in a shawl with her auburn hair gracefully on her thin shoulders, accenting her entire image beautifully. _She is beautiful! _Always was in the opera, the most beautiful of them all, surpassing the horse faced ballet rats by miles! _

_Maybe she is cold now; yes she never liked to wear a coat outside, let alone a muffler. Her cheeks must be absolutely inflamed by now! _

The fantasy in his head was so real, he held out a hand to touch her. _I wish I could warm you, my Christine. I wouldn't leave you out in the cold!_

It was soothing to think of his beloved and not about other phantoms coming to take care of him for the night.

Soon another image came into Erik's head, the vicomte. That insolent boy! He could see her lovely head titled on his strong shoulder, them both gazing up at the structure, whispering sweet nothings to one another.

_Say you love me_

_You know I do_

Erik gritted his teeth until he thought his mouth would surely be nothing but a shattered smile that was so ill-used. He gave a cry of anguish and hurled the organ stool across his quarters. His chest was heaving up and down in a rhythmic fashion. "How dare they!" he moaned to himself, placing an icy hand on his mask. Tears were tempting him to let go of his stubbornness but, as it was often displayed in his life, stubbornness overcame tears…for the moment at least.

Another roar punctured the nighttime air. As if to turn to turn away from the music that seemed to be right in front of him, Erik faced his only good stool that was now shattered into peices.

"Damn," Erik curse under his breath. Only one possession had broken the stool's fall, a clock. His lips puckered slightly with the foreshadowing warnings that Nadir had spoken of. _Dare I look at it? Oh course you can, you old fool! No sprits are coming to you on this lovely evening; after merely checking the time, I will continue my Christmas as I planned it…alone._

Being wary of the shattered glass that brought back too many memories, that shattered glass, he gingerly picked up each shard to reveal where the hands had been, before his own angry imagination had got the better of him.

_1 o'clock_

"Impossible! It could not have been more than 9 o'clock just a moment ago!"

And yet in the distance he could hear the church bells toll once, they seemed to be taunting, _"Time's up!"_

A brilliant white flash enlightened the room so suddenly, it was blinding. Erik stumbled backward, hitting his shin on the organ corner, knocking him to the floor. He raised a thin arm to shield himself from whatever creature that was coming toward him with no delay.

A light and kind hand was laid upon his trembling shoulder.

"Do not be afraid, Erik. I am here to help you."

He slightly perked up his head and faced the glow. _I know that voice._

"Antoinette?" he issued.

The light dimmed until it was barely as bright as the candle that had been ignited before. There standing, little hand still on his shoulder, was Antoinette Giry, or more commonly know as just Madame Giry.

She did not, in fact, look all too much like herself, far more beautiful and youthful was she! She was bare foot on the December day; her long sliver specked hair that had too typically been fastened into a tight braid running down her narrow back, was now free and flowing in the cold winter air. Branches of holly were displayed all over the white gown and locks that all drifted in the breeze in unison.

Antoinette smiled dearly onto her Erik and put a womanly finger to her lips.

"You must not use my mortal name, Erik. I am now simply the Ghost of Christmas Past."

The wonder dulled from Erik's yellow eyes. He cruelly wriggled his shoulder from her gentle grasp and leapt to his feet. _I suppose this is not a dream. _

"So _you're _the hostile burden that has been sent upon me tonight eh?" he retorted sarcastically.

The laughter faded from her pale eyes. "One of three, yes," she stated, sticking her sharp nose in the air. "You have done much wrong, Erik, but I hope that what was promised to you will motivate you to succeed."

She floated toward the window to unlock the heavily bolted shutters.

_Floated…_

"Madame, I hope you do not think me forward, but I'm rather curious to know…how you died. You never were a sickly woman. Was it because of…" h swallowed, "that night?"

She spun around, rather floated around, to meet his eyes. "Many lives were claimed that night and not all by the fate of the chandelier."

He arched an eyebrow. _How any other death could have taken place? _

"You're talking in riddles, Madame, will you tell me this clearly at least? What do you intend to go to tonight?" _No going back now I suppose, let's just get on with this "haunting." Ha! It's truly laughable! I'm being haunted by a ballet instructor who was like the mother I barely ever had!_

With an effortless pull, Madame Giry hurled open the window letting the cool night air enter freely into the funeral home of a chamber. Snow blew in as flurries, making her look even more angelic than ever before. If he knew any better, he would have mistaken for the Virgin Mary. Not that that was much of a high rank with Erik!

She turned back and gave the same smile that Nadir had given before he made his leave to the mask man and intelligently inquired, "We're going to the past."

**Another chapter down! As a note, each visit with a sprit will probably be split into 2 or 3 parts so I don't drag on and bore you guys to death. Another note, I want to make sure that you know that Erik is not in love with Madame Giry, I just wanted to get across that she looked very angelic and prettier in the after life. You most likely figured that out, but I'm just making sure! Please review!!!!! **


	4. A Walk Down Memory Lane

**A/N: 'Ello 'ello! Here's another chappy for you all, I'm so sorry for the dilemma; had a bit of a writer's block! Once again, the reviews are very flattering so thanks to: **

**Nocturna Musique **

**aneglofmusicx0**

**Hot4Gerry **

**phantom-jedi1 **

**seawanderer **

**the Mouse in the Opera House **

**And anyone else who will hopefully read in the future! **

**On with the story! **

Moving as if she were the poor cat hiding under the bed, Madame Giry leapt gracefully onto the window sill, despite her age. She took in a deep breath and let the small flurries of snow coat her white, glowing face; she made a gesture for him to join her.

Realizing her intensions, Erik slowly backed away from his companion's sprit and stared at her as if _she_ was the Opera Ghost.

"Madame," he muttered, "I am quite good at any skill that comes my way, even genius if you will. Composing, artwork, architect and designing, and ventriloquism are only a few, but I have failed to yet master the art of flying."

"A touch of my hand and you shall fly. Come now, there's nothing to fear!"

_Nothing to fear! It's the middle of the night and the ghost of the old box keeper wants me to leap out a slippery window and of course, fly! This is the worst humbug of them all! Still, no one, alive or dead, will call me a coward. _

He sniffed as he approached Madame Giry. "I'm not afraid."

Enwrapping his frail hand in hers, in the wink of an eye, they soared out of the drab room into the crisp Paris air. 

The white and black material of both of the travelers' coats streamed in the wind whistling by their ears.

Erik could feel his teeth ache from the cold. _Damn, the woman couldn't even wait a moment for me to put on some decent clothes…or at least my fedora…. _

He rubbed his gloved hand over his ears that were screaming from the bitter chill. _I'll get frostbite for sure. _

Madame Giry turned to him and smiled. "Don't be such a baby, it's not that cold!" She then laughed like an eager school girl. That very laugh seemed to bring out the light that they were quickly drawing nearer to. It started as a pale rainbow shining in the night, but soon changed to a kaleidoscope whirling before Erik's eyes shining every color and shade. Everything seemed right in the world.

_Could it be heaven? Don't be ridiculous…I'd never get even close to walking in God's kingdom. I have been told though that sprits come in the middle of the night to take lost souls to heaven…_

"What is that up ahead? It can't be dawn!" He tightened his grip on the old woman's hand. _It can't be dawn, it can't be heaven, what is it? _

"Are you so sure, Erik? Time flies when you're having fun!"

"What _is _it?" he hissed dangerously.

She sighed and looked dramatically ahead. "It is the past…your past."

Swirling, whirling they plunged down into a bottom of a dark abyss. A sheet of wet, soft snow cushioned their landing.

Erik steadied himself and gazed around him. There was house that looked like it had been pulled from a fairy tale. Even in the wintertime, you could see that it was draped with ivy and had an iron gate surrounding the yard... To give it one word to describe it, it was cute…but Erik wouldn't say that it was cute, more like menacing and tormented. This was the home of his childhood.

"Do you remember this place Erik?" She glanced over towards him and saw that his entire body had stiffened.

"It's-it's where I grew up," there wasn't a hit of wonder or pleasure in his voice.

"Let's go inside then."

The ebony door squeaked as the two entered into the hut. _It hasn't changed at all. _

"Do you know the way around your old home still, Erik?"

_"Know it? _Madame you insult my intelligence, I could walk this entire house blindfolded!"

_My house…my old house. I hate this house! I still hate it! It brought me so much grief for so many years…and yet why do I feel so warm inside? Oh God, that's it, no more brandy after dark! It clouds my better judgment… _

"It's a lovely house, but so low on human activity. Yet one solitary boy is in the corner!" Madame Giry praised, "Do you know him?"

Erik went completely pale, paler than usual, as the image before him flashed into view. They found themselves in his old room, or rather attic.

"It's me!"

Erik's words were all too true. There, on the foot of a humble cot, sat a seven maybe eight year old image of himself, yellow eyes fixed on the frosted window. The boy let out a deep, melodic sigh and seemed to be unaware of the two strangers in his room.

Suddenly, a choir of pounding raps were thrust upon the door making the young Erik turn and face the door way. The boy made a swift movement and opened it to reveal a very beautiful lady.

_Mama_

She was like a flower pressed inside the pages of a book, just as beautiful as when you picked it. As always she was dressed in the latest style from thirty years or so ago. His mother was fashioned in a stunning green dress that flowed with every move of her body, an elegant, high necked blouse underneath, and a tight but equally as lovely bun in her honey colored hair. As I said, she was beautiful.

"Madame," Erik chocked out attempting to swallow the lump in his throat, "can they-"

"No, Erik, they can't see you, they can't feel you, and they can't hear you. These are but shadows of the past; take heed and listen to what they have to say!"

Erik's lips twisted into a snarl. It irked him greatly of just sitting back and watching the show, no Erik liked to take action! He echoed the same musical sigh that his younger self had given. _For now I'll I have to bare it._

Erik's mother, Madeline, did not enter much into the dreary room... _My bedroom has always been the point of no return for my mother. _Erik mused to himself.

"Erik," his mother voice said demanding respect, "you know very well where I will be for the rest of the day so I wish to make sure that you know where _you _will be."

His younger self was unresponsive and kept his eyes fixed on the window.

"Are you listening to me, Erik? Answer me now!" Her beautiful, white face shot a cold look onto her son.

"I am to stay in my room and pretend I don't exist while you and Mademoiselle Perroult have Christmas dinner," he replied still not breaking his gaze from the window.

"What in Heaven's name are you staring at?"

"I'm not looking for anything, Mama," he said innocently despite the demons in his eyes, "I'm listening. The Christmas carolers sound so beautiful this year."

His mother did not move, if anything she became even stiller. She was but a statue in the attic.

"There is no one there, Erik. No one is singing."

"I can hear them," he whispered.

Erik closed his eyes and he too couldn't hear anything. "Maybe I was more damaged than I thought when I was a boy"

Madame Giry's face metamorphosed into a scowl. "If Christmas sprit is damaging, then yes you were definitely damaged."

At that point, his mother had left the room, leaving her son, or rather sons in this case, behind.

Erik lowered his eyes from the little form that was still perched on the bed.

"What is it?" Madame Giry said placing a ghostly hand on his shoulder.

"Nothing, it's just there was a boy who wanted to sing me a carol for a couple of francs and well…I wish I had given him something that's all," he sighed reluctantly.

"Come, we have many more shadows to see."

Erik looked back at his childhood home longingly with tears silently flowing from his yellow eyes as they were plunged into the glowing light once more.

**I can't say that I'm proud of this chapter but it's going to be hard showing Erik's past and such. R/R! I'll do better with posting :)**


	5. Masquerade

**A/N: I am so, so, so, so, so, so sorry everyone! I know I haven't been posting up chapters and it's getting close to Christmas! I'll really step it up, promise! Thank you to all the faithful reviewers!!!**

The scene changed. New colors flashed before Erik's eyes as it had before. Figures began to mold and take shape, into the grand Garnier Opera, like shadows from a flame.

_Masquerade!_

_Paper faces on parade!_

_Masquerade!_

_Hide your face so the world will never find you!_

Most were drunk, some were sober, all were spinning and twirling joyously on the great staircase. After all, everyone was glittered and was gay on the Christmas masquerade!

"This is not ordinary masquerade, is it Erik?" Madame Giry sighed beholding the dancers.

"No…no I suppose it isn't" he said scanning the crowd. "Why, there's Firman and Andre! Those two buffoons used to be the managers, after their jobs in the junk business, I do believe."

"Scrap metal," the ghost chirped on cue.

Erik flicked his wrist with indifference, "Yes, yes whatever. Either way, they had no business being in the arts."

One by one he pointed them out, implying comments as he went.

Carlotta, Piangi, Sorelli, little Jammes, Meg, and even Madame Giry herself, alive again that is, all seemed to dance across his mind, as they did so in the memory, and spill from his mouth.

Madame Giry's own phantom remained silent as the other ranted and raved. When he finally fell silent, she said, in just barely a whisper, "I suppose that particular individual…is no ordinary individual to you…"

He gulped and followed the thin finger to the "certain individual." His eyes glazed over as they beheld Christine Daae.

All time seemed to stand still and the only noise Erik could here was the hammering of his own heart and eardrums. For years her face had burned inside his mind, yet, even though he knew she was just a shadow of the past, he felt like he had been gutted through the heart all over again.

She looked truly beautiful. Her delicate frame was draped with a lovely pink gown, no doubt bought by the Vicomte who was accompanying her.

Erik drank in their happiness. He drank in the music, and the games, and their laughter until the festivities came to a crashing halt.

A figure, completely dressed in red, stood triumphantly at the top of the staircase.

"Refresh my memory Erik, who is that costumed as the Red Death?"

Erik did not answer for they both knew that it was himself. _She is testing me…oh God same Antoinette…_

The past Erik moved gracefully down the stairs to the landing where he drew his sword and bellowed his commands to all the merry makers.

The score of Don Juan was thrown at the managers' feet, who were gawking at the "ghost's" presence.

Christine had obviously seen him as well and was nearly entranced. The Vicomte had abandoned her, to "fetch his sword."

_Coward, couldn't face me then, couldn't face me now._

The two had locked eyes and were having a stare down. Slowly, just as Erik had remembered it, she took a dainty step on the first stair. Erik's past self did the same, but stepped down towards her. One stair up, one stair down, until there was only but one step separating them. Their eyes were both glazed over with passion and desire.

_Your chains are still mine!_

_You belong to me!_

Erik's face grew grim. _Why did I have to drive her away? You are a fool Erik…you are a fool._

The scene blacked so suddenly that Erik let out a small gasp. He felt blind as he fumbled about, seeking Madame Giry. Only her voice was to be heard.

"There is another Christmas you shared with her," the voice echoed through the empty foyer.

His stomach turned as he attempted to hold back his emotions.

"Please, Madame," he chocked out, "do not show me that Christmas."

Despite his desperate plea, the scene changed once more to a place not so alien. There they stood in Erik's own home, his humble abode by the lake, his domain.

_Christine_

_I love you_

For the second time that evening, Erik beheld his past self, but this time unmasked.

To say that he was comfortable for Madame Giry to see his face would be a lie. The exact opposite, he was extremely uncomfortable and put a hand upon the masked side of his face.

Then, for the second time once more, he saw Christine. She was not so blissful this time. Tears stained her cheeks and her beautiful face was full of despair. What seemed to be out of reluctance, she took Erik's hand and placed the ring that the Vicomte had given her, in his palm, held onto his hand for a few more moments, and hurried away.

Madame Giry led him away from his old chambers to a memory he was not familiar with.

They saw Christine step into the gondola and place her arms around Raoul's waist.

"Well," the Vicomte said, "is it done with then?"

"Yes, though I wish that his fate would not be so horrible."

"There is nothing you can do about his fate, Christine."

She looked up at him with her big brown eyes. "Yes, there was. It may not seem like it, but I have just committed a homicide. I killed him Raoul."

The Vicomte looked very shocked and Erik was torn between laughing out loud or beginning to lock up his anger for he knew that that would be a celebration in Raoul's shoes.

"Not physically, Raoul," she reassured him, "but I _did_ kill his heart, and from that, I do believe that he will die. My life these past few months has been almost like an opera. So very dramatic my life has been…but the real tragedy of this opera is that I loved him back."

In her tiny fist, Erik saw a flash of ruby. She was clutching a ring. _His _ring, the one he gave to _her_.

She bowed her head gravely and stepped into the gondola. Raoul was silent as they rowed away, out into the distance.

"It's a pity," Madame Giry's voice said, suddenly thinning with age, "that you drove her away like that." Erik did not seem the sly smile she put on as she turned from the Phantom.

Erik fiercely spun around, gold eyes fixed upon the specter. "How dare you! I never drove her away! I'm not a monster and I would never, _ever _hurt her! I just wanted her to…to…

"Go on," Madame Giry uttered calmly.

"I wanted her to be free…"

He was crying now.

Crying would even be an inappropriate word for what Erik was expressing. Allow me to rephrase the word play. Erik was now bawling on the floor of his lair.

"Sprit!" he choked out, "the ghost of my fateful box keeper, remove me from this place! I can bare it no longer!"

And just like that, he was in the darkness of his chambers once more completly and utterly alone.

**Ta da! So ends the visit of the first sprit! I'm having a bit of trouble thinking of who should be the second sprit, so if any of you wonderful reviewers want to email me for suggestions, (angelofshowbiz at please feel free to do so! I'll attempt to publish the next chapter tomorrow.**


	6. Ghost of Christmas Present

**A/N: How am I doing keeping up with chapters? Lol Thank you to all the reviewers as always because you keep me happy :D**

**One with the story!**

A few times Erik blinked. He tried to stand, but stumbled. It felt like his brain was throbbing and arresting his actions.

_My head, my aching head, what happened? Where's the spirit…er Madame Giry?_ This time, he succeeded in standing to his full height and looked around for the apparition of Madame Giry.

Alas, he was alone in the shadowy room. He traced the window sill for evidence of becoming ajar, but found none. No tiny footprints were to be found in the new fallen snow either.

_It was a dream, a mere dream. But I thought it was a dream the last time… God damn it what time is it? _

Soon, the Phantom got his answer.

The room was flooded with white hot light that forced Erik to dive for cover.

"Mousier Phantom!" a hearty voice sang, "Mousier Phantom, come in here." When no answer came it then said rather mischievously, "Or shall I come get you?"

The voice seemed so familiar, so familiar that it dumbfounded poor Erik. "I'm-I'm coming." he stuttered.

The door that led to the dining hall flew open. Erik flinched and squinted against the light.

"Do forgive me," the voice boomed again, "I forgot that you are a creature of the night! Now, how could _I_ forget that? Ha, well let me tone it down a bit."

The lighted dimmed and did not reveal his dining room, no it was far grander! Food and wine, was scattered about a long table with a pure white tablecloth. Cakes, pies, goose, pudding, all of the most delicious foods you can think of were there! If it weren't for Erik's small appetite, he would be salivating.

What really enchanted him was the creature atop the banquet. He was large, far too large to be normal. Erik was naturally a very tall individual, and yet this man was three times his size!

The ghost was adorned in a magnificent emerald robe that hung loosely, fastened only by a leather belt, showing off most of his chest and a single breast.

His face was bearded and merry with laughing eyes; it was the eye that gave him away. The only difference was that the eyes were not filled with fear this time.

"Joseph Bouquet?"

The specter gave a vigorous chortle.

"That I am, Mousier Phantom! But alas, I'm the Ghost of Christmas present now, no thanks to you." The happiness never left his voice, even when speaking of his own murder.

"Well….erm I'm sorry about that. F-forgive me, Bouquet, but you do not look like yourself…"

"You mean I'm not looking like a drunk? Ho, ho! You are correct, Mousier Phantom! But after all, why would I need ale when I have this?"

He raised a large golden chalice nearly overflowing with a clear liquid. Bouquet guzzled it greedily down and spared not a drop. The ghost tossed the empty goblet to Erik, who surprised himself when he caught it. As he held it in his hands, it was suddenly full once more.

"Well, go on! It won't bite you!"

_From what is happening to me today, it may._

He took two brave gulps and smacked his lips. _Strange…why it's better than wine!_

"Good, isn't it?"

"It's like nothing I've ever tasted, Bouquet."

"Of course _you_ haven't! It's the milk of human kindness, Mousier Phantom. You have long denied its nectar."

"So the first spirit teaches me to redeem myself and I suppose you are here to show me generosity and what not," Erik grunted with apathy as he planted his face in the large cup to get the last precious drops of the drink.

"How right you are, Mousier Phantom!" Bouquet slapped Erik on the back, startling him greatly.

"I was being sarcastic," he growled.

"Ho, ho! Mousier Phantom, There will be a time for more of your funny jokes! Come, there's much to see!"

"We're not going to be flying, are we?" Erik issued thinking of his stomach the following time.

"What? I've never such boulder dash in my life! Of course we are not, you can't fly!" He abruptly turned to face Erik. "Can you?"

Erik stupidly shook his head as he gnashed his teeth together in aggravation.

"Well, in that case touch my belt!"

With disgust, Erik stared down at the loose robe that was nearly falling off the specter. "I'm not going to touch your belt!" He crossed his arms over his chest coldly and stood his ground.

"Touch my belt! The time grows short!"

Erik released a long groan. _Get it over with, for Christine_.

Using the tip of his nimble finger, he tapped the tassel of the ghost's robe.

His bed chambers melted away behind them into nothingness and the scene dissolved into yet another scene.

"Mousier Phantom," Bouquet's voice boomed with triumph, "I give you Christmas!"

**That was a pretty short chapter, but I don't want to drag on and bore you all. Hope you all liked! What do you think of Joseph Bouquet as the Ghost of Christmas Present? **


	7. I Need You

**A/N: Ack! Christmas is coming so soon! I really need to step it up don't I? I'm sorry, but it's been like hell on my comp. I'm creating a forum, advertising it (it's on my profile); everything is just hellish so please stay with me!**

And so it was! The streets were filled with the hustle and bustle of everyday life emphasized with greetings of the "Merry Christmas" sort.

"Walk with me, Mousier Phantom, and learn!" Bouquet erupted and drug poor Erik away without much effort.

"Where are you taking me now, Bouquet?"

"Ho, ho! Why to a _real _Christmas celebration!"

"A real celebration? Humbug, I am may be hideously ugly, but I celebrated as well."

"How so?" Bouquet said with much feign alarm in his voice

"Well, I always walk and…well…erm," he sighed, "I'm always walking, aren't I?"

"Now you're getting it! Ho, ho!" With all of Bouqet's laughter, anyone would mistake him for Father Christmas himself!

All passed in a blur as Erik and the spirit trudged on through the snow. They came upon a quaint little house where a cozy fire was burning dimly inside.

"Why have you brought me to this run down shack?"

"You have no idea who lives here do you, Mousier Phantom? This is rich, absolutely rich!"

"Glad you're enjoying my arrogance…" Erik sneered.

"Forgive me; it's just all too funny! You impact and alter peoples' lives so immensely and you haven't a clue where they go off to! Tell me if I'm wrong!"

Erik sighed. "You are not Bouquet, please who is in the house."

"It once belonged to Antoinette Giry, who you have learned is deceased.  
Now, it is the setting of Meg Giry and her family."

A man bustled into the house to be greeted by many children.

"Bouquet, that man is Philippe De Changy. Pray, what is he doing here?"

"Why, he's married to mistress of the house."

"You don't mean…"

"Philippe, darling you're home!" Meg leapt into his armed and kissed him square on the lips.

"She always was a beauty, wasn't she Mousier Phantom? Yet look, time works on beauties too. She is grown, is she not?"

Erik grunted, but knew what the spirit said was true. Meg seemed no longer like the little gossiping ballet rat that Erik had once known at the Garnier. No she had grown up; she was now a woman.

"Spirit, why are they dressed in rags, surely the Count's money could support them." Erik inquired with some sympathy.

"No opera house means no patronage, or dancing for that matter. When they lost everything in the fire, they came to live in this hut on the outskirts of town, three children and all."

"What of the Vicomte? He must have assisted them."

"Raoul knew that Philippe wanted nothing to do with them from the start, him and Mademoiselle Daae that is. At first, Raoul was happy for his brother but soon realized that he had not been excepting of Christine, so he thought why he should except the little dancer he brought home. They visit often, but only for the women's sake. The brothers do not speak to one another any longer."

Bouquet did not or could not take his eyes off the smiling blonde beauty in front of him.

_Is he crying? Dear God, looks like little Giry has another lover after all. _Erik chuckled inside his head. _Madame Giry would be tossing in her grave if she discovered this. She never liked Bouquet, but maybe she would have approved of this Santa Claus like one._

Erik felt awkward but knew that they were not here to waste time and stare at ballerinas, employed or not.

"Erm, Bouquet? Spirit?"

In the most melancholy tone Bouquet uttered, "We are here to resolve the bond between your life and love…not with mine. Listen to what they say, Mousier Phantom, my time grows short."

"And a very Merry Christmas to you my dears!" He placed a kissed on each of the heads of the children grouping about him.

"Come see what we've been up to, Papa!" the tallest one said leading her father to a shrub decorated in the corner.

"Why, the mayor himself doesn't have a finer looking Christmas tree!" Philippe kissed the heads again and went to join his wife by the fire."

"Dear," Meg said in a hushed tone, "I've invited Raoul and Christine over for Christmas dinner."

"Are you sure we have enough for everyone?" he grumbled with a sudden change of mood.

Meg shook her head solemnly, "Raoul suggested that they could bring some food over so there would be plenty."

Philippe's eyebrows knitted together. "I'm not going to take charity from my brother; it's far too late for _that_, Meg."

Her temper rising, but keeping mind to the children, she rose up from her stool, "Well, what do you suppose I should tell Raoul then, hmm? 'Eat before you come because we don't have enough food and my husband, your BROTHER, is too stubborn to take a gesture of generosity?'"

Erik was shocked for he had never had he seen Meg angry before. _I rather liked this twist in personality._

Philippe let out a heavy sigh, "We'll manage with what we have. It's only important that the children and Christine are fed."

Puzzled, Erik looked up at Bouquet who still had his eyes fixed on Meg.

"Spirit, not that I don't care for her well being, I truly and deeply do, but why must Christine be fed while the others are not?"

Bouquet lowered his smiling eyes to the wooden floor. "I wish it hadn't come to this…"

Erik's face grew grave and grim. _Something is wrong, I can feel it. _He had had enough. "Come to what Bouquet?! What is wrong with my angel?!"

Right on time, came a knock on the door and in the doorway stood the Vicomte and Christine.

Now, Erik could recognize his love anywhere, but the woman by Raoul only resembled her. She was far more thin and frail then she used to be. Always was a delicate creature, but it was as if she would be blown away by the wind.

Raoul helped her into a seat by the fireplace as if she was a china doll ready to shatter. Christine did not speak but only stared at the licks of flames.

"Christine, darling," Raoul said gently, "I'm going to bring you over some water. Rest, my love, please save your strength."

She answered with a quiet "alright" which was followed by a powerful cough.

"What illness is this, what illness?!" Erik screamed weeping at the ghost's feet.

Another sigh broke the tension, "She's sick, Mousier Phantom, and has been for quite some time. My realm lies in the Present, but if these shadows remain unaltered, I believe that she will die."

"Bouquet, please, how is this my doing?" Erik moaned.

"Physically, you did nothing to her, but in her mind you still stay. She was always so distant you see that she never took care of herself. Now, her mind is crippled beyond belief. Do not cry, Mousier Phantom, it is not _all_ your fault. Listen to me, she chose to be in that state of mind. When she left you, you let her go, but her mind stayed with you and the wonder it brought. No mortal mind can handle so much wonder."

"Then why do you consider it an unforgivable deed brought on by me?"

"Because, Mousier Phantom," Bouquet said more gently, "she still needed you and yet you abandoned her."

"Abandoned her? I would never…no I did not! I did not! I did not forget her! I admit that I tried to put her from my mind, but I couldn't! I love her, but I thought that her heart would go on without me. I thought she thought I was a monster! I thought…I thought…"

"You thought wrong, Mousier Phantom. Keep in mind that these are shadows are there is nothing you can do now, but it's not too late to make things right."

Bouquet looked up to the sky. "The wind has changed, it is colder…my time has come to an end!"

"No! Please Bouquet, I need you to help me make things right! How can I fix this? I need you…"

At last, Bouquet was smiling again. "I've been waiting to hear you say that all night! Farwell Mousier Phantom, I'm sure you'll be happy in the end." He placed at heavy and hand on his mortal companion's shoulder. Erik looked at it with his yellow eyes, which we filling with tears, and cupped his own hand over the ghost's.

"Erik, call me Erik."

With that everything went dark and Erik found himself alone in his flat once more.

**I'll be writing most of the day today so I'll take this moment and say a few things.**

**I may not be able to finish the story in time for Christmas but please try to take some time during your busy schedule this holiday season and check up on the story.**

**I will really try to finish, especially since there isn't much to go, so stay with me!**

**Happy Holidays:)**


	8. Ghost of Christmas Future

**A/N: Well Merry Christmas Eve everybody! Let's get to writing!**

Once again, Erik's head was throbbing. _Time traveling really isn't my forte….I'll be damned, it's 3 o'clock. _He did a double take at the clock.

"3 o'clock? That means…the last spirit." He said the last words as if it was the name of his executioner.

The wind whirled as fog blew in from no where. It had suddenly become unbearably cold that sent foreboding feelings down Erik's spine.

A dark figure loomed in from the shadows, it was the shadows! It was shrouded in black, all but its fearful hands that had one morbid finger at Erik; a hood covered its face.

The spirit said nothing as it approached Erik. Even with his cat like eyes glowing in the black, Erik could not tell the difference between the darkness and the ghost but inches away from his face.

He gathered up every once of courage in his body and spoke. "Am I in the presence of the Ghost of Christmas Future?"

The spirit nodded gravely, but remained silent.

"I fear you most of all, spirit. Please, will you not speak to me?"

Again the ghost did not utter a sound but only pointed a finger to the window.

"I know time is precious to me and you are here to do me well, lead on spirit!"

The wind gushed again spending them traveling through time and space.

The spirit and he found themselves in a familiar part of town. Above them stood the opera house, as dreary and vacant as Erik had seen it in the present. Something had changed though. Across the top of the main entrance's arch was banner. In thick red letters was the phrase:

_PUBLIC AUCTION TODAY_

The spirit pointed towards the entrance and, in a flash, they were inside.

Much more had changed in the once proud opera house. The seats, once a brilliant blood red, had become moth eaten until it became a maggoty brown color. Everything was charred and falling apart which made the scene most unpleasant for any civilized creature to be in. Yet, there were creatures in there! Three gentlemen and a lady to be exact.

A fat one was behind a large podium calling out numbers. Erik assumed that he was the auctioneer of the event.

"Lot 665, ladies and gentlemen," he boomed, "a papier-mâché musical box,   
in the shape of a barrel-organ. Attached, the figure of a monkey in Persian robes playing the cymbals. This item, discovered in the vaults of a dead man's flat, still in working order."

Another man stepped up with the described item. "Showing here."

The monkey began to clap its symbols together as a haunting tune that was not so strange to Erik and began to sing softly along.

_Masquerade_

_Paper faces on parade _

_Masquerade_

_Find your face so the world will never find you_

"Spirit, they do they have my music box? I am not dead, am I?"

The spirit did not answer, but merely pointed to auctioneer who had just banged his gavel.

"Sold for thirty francs to the Vicomte De Changy. Thank you, sir"

It was not, though, Raoul who approached the auctioneer with the profit, but Meg Giry. Her pretty face was veiled and frowning with tear stained cheeks.

Erik followed her with his eyes and saw that she had handed his music box to a man sitting in a chair. He had his face in his hand so it was impossible to tell for sure who he was. Erik had assumed it was Raoul, of course.

"Why are they in mourning, spirit? Where is Christine-" He did not need to answer the sentence for before he could, he received an answer.

The spirit and he were no longer in the decaying opera house but in a grave yard. There was Raoul hunched over a tombstone, blocking the inscription, and placing the monkey musical box at the base. He walked away solemnly with Meg at his heels, hand on shoulder.

Once more, the spirit directed his accursed finger to the tombstone. The dust and mold flew off exposing the cold, unforgiving stone with the engraved name:

CHRISITNE DAAE

1854-1874

COUNTESS DE CHANGY

BELOVED WIFE AND FRIEND

Erik had known that the truth was coming once Bouquet told him, but he did not want to believe it.

"No, spirit, no! Please say that this isn't true!"

The spirit stood there, starring, unmercifully.

Never in his life had he felt so helpless. His body slumped to the ground in uncontrollable sobs. Shaking, he reached into his waist coat pocket and pulled out a rose with the very ring he had given her. Moaning from the pain he was feeling, Erik reached a far as he could from where he laid and dropped the rose on the base of his beloved Christine's grave.

Like a snake, crawled on his belly to the feet of the cloaked spirit.

"Answer me this!" he half screamed half chocked, "are these the shadows of what will happen or what _may_ happen?"

More silence.

"Answer me, please! I-I will keep Christmas in my heart all year round! I'll live in the past, present, and the future just so long as the writing may be erased from that horrible stone!"

Silence.

"Answer me, damn you! Damn you! Let her live! For God's sake, let her live!" In a fury, he sprang to his feet and rushed full speed at the unmoving specter. With all his strength, he ripped the hood from the spirit's head to show no other than his own, unmasked face.

What seemed to thousands of voices suddenly flooded around him.

Nadir's voice. "You must see the harm you have done. It may be painful at times, but it must me done! 

Christine's. "But I _did_ kill his heart, and from that, I do believe that he will die. My life these past few months has been almost like an opera. So very dramatic my life has been…but the real tragedy of this opera is that I loved him back."

Antoinette. "You drove her away like that."

Bouquet. "Mousier Phantom!"

"She's sick, Mousier Phantom, and has been for quite some time. My realm lies in the Present, but if these shadows remain unaltered, I believe that she will die."

Christine's again. "You abandoned me! Don't leave me alone in the dark!"

"No, I won't! I promise! I swear!" Erik screamed, eyes snapped tight.

Then there was silence, deafening silence.

**Do forgive me if there's some errors, I didn't have enough time to edit as thoroughly as I would have liked to. **


	9. Begin Again

**A/N: Hello everyone! This last chapter is my Christmas present to all of you (we made it!) It's short but sums up our little tale here. To add dramatic effect, I'm not going to put an author's note at the end of the story so listen up. This entire experience has been so wonderful and I do plan on writing more phan phics (we'll see where this one takes us ;)) I'd like to thank all the reviewers and the future reviews that I hope to receive; I'll do better with replying to them! **

**Happy Holidays and God bless!**

Yes, the room was his own, and in the present too keep in mind! Everything was the same all for the one glorious beam of light shining through the window.

_I will live in the past, present, and the future!_

"I'm back…I'm back! The spirits have done it, they brought me back!"

He leapt to his sweet whooping and laughing in the most gay of manners. Never in his life had he felt so warm, so happy!

As if he were mocking the Ghost of Christmas Futre, he pointed a finger to the door. "That-that's where Nadir's ghost apeared to me." He moved the finger to the window glowing with light. "There's where Madame Giry took me to the past and-oh look, there's where Bouqet sat!"

There was a long pause as the Phantom closed his eyes and...did his ears decive him? No, it was! Erik was listening to...singing.

_Anywhere you go let me go to_

_Erik_

_That's all I ask of you_

Christine's voice swelled inside Erik's free imaginatation as tear rolled down his hollowed cheeks. _Funny, my music was once inside her head, now her's is in my mind! _

"I-I don't know what to do! I'm as merry has a school boy! I'm as giddy as a drunken man! I'm-I'm as happy as an angel!" _Angel. Christine, my Christine. _

Slowly, he felt the rose he had placed on Christine's future grave had been. It was still there! She had not died! She couldn't't have or the rose would still be in the future billowing in the breeze.

The tides have changed and with every fiber of his being, he could feel that his angel was alive. Alive and loving him…somewhere.

Yes, Erik smiled. He laughed, cried, and smiled all at the same time. He knew that his angel was alive and was going to remain so for a good long time.

It was true that Christine was not going to appear to him again like magic, it had been that way from the start. The chances are that she is still unaware that _he_ was even alive.

To get his happiness, Erik needed to change, and so he had! _In one night the spirits have done it! Remarkable…I'm a genius beyond all human comparison, but in turn, someone has taught me. I know now that she loved me all along and-and that she will love me! Oh, God she's loves me!_

He looked around and saw his little lady creeping from under the bed.

"Ayesha, my darling!" he scooped up his precious cat and showered her with a thousand kisses, "Come, my dear! We're going for a little walk," he said in his familiar mischevious tone.

Ayesha mewed and cuddled up next to her skeletal master. "No, no," he seemed to answer her, "to the poor house…maybe the orphanage. We have a few presents to drop off."

Another meow. "Well, we will get some then and drop it off at their door steps! And then…" he paused again and stared out the window, "we'll visit a little shack on the other side of town, I have a few friends in great need who live there…"

So the Phantom, like clock work, latched his cape, placed his fedora firmly on his head, and fastened the fragile mask upon his face.

He had to work with hast for he had a lot of work to do.

And so there may be the end to our tale of Erik. Has he earned the love of Christine's heart? Has he truly changed for good? Will he return to the opera house? Will the Phantom of the Opera of him rise up and begin his terriable regin once more?

Well, dear reader, that is all for you to decide…for now.

**FIN**


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